The True Story
by Broken Spindle
Summary: Sirius Black ponders his past, and makes his great escape.
1. The True Story

Dirty. Depressing. Cold. These three words easily summed up the looks of Azkaban, prison for witches and wizards, to a young Sirius Black's sunken gray eyes. A cell beside him contained a man who was convinced he had to stare at Sirius until melons fell from the great sky. Which they'd probably never see, Sirius thought bitterly.

So he took time to ponder his past.

Sirius lived a great life, great friends. He was even referred to as a charming, sly, cocky, pranking laugh. Sirius the laugh… it wasn't a bad name to live up to, really. But that was back when things were easy, back in Hogwarts.

After Hogwarts, he lived a fairly good life as well. For about a year, tops. He had trouble remembering. Maybe it was the dementors. He couldn't think of any way that he could tell. Back to his life… it was fairly good. He even got that flying motorcycle that he'd dreamed of having for so long, and got to ride it nearly every day. Until it happened.

James and Lily Potter….

It seemed as if Sirius' face lost all the colour it once held, once you saw past the dirt in the lack of light they called a prison. He'd rather die a thousand deaths than be stuck in this hellhole.

He used to visit Lily and James every time he had the chance down in Godric's Hollow. He came in walking, normally, or he kept his motorcycle on the ground, since it was a muggle community and all. The last time he saw his best friend and Lily was on a hot, summer day. Little Harry – he couldn't be little anymore, could he? – was being bounced up and down on Lily's knee, out on the back porch, tiny leather jacket Sirius had given him that Christmas tied around his tiny, baby-chubby waist. James was drinking a muggle soda, looking relaxed and natural in the fatherly position. It was like a dream, just remembering it. Sirius himself was clean and clad in muggle clothes, which happened to be his favoured; black jeans, a plain white shirt, and a black leather jacket. He'd been offered to stay for dinner, so naturally he accepted. Nobody could beat James' hamburgers, or Lily's homemade chips. So he went home when it started growing dark, because he hated running into owls. They usually healed, but it turned into a nasty mess last go around.

Then he heard a tap on his window. A letter from the Ministry of Magic, who thought Sirius had ratted his best friends out to Lord Voldemort, who had them murdered! It was imposterous. Then he knew. Peter, someone he thought to be one of his best friends as well! Just thinking of it completely enraged him.

"Yes?!" a squeaky voice inquired as Sirius gave a smart tap to the back of a mousy looking young man's shoulder.

Sirius had a wand in his hand, pointed at Peter Pettigrew's throat. "I KNOW YOU –" he started, then Peter, thinking slightly faster under the circumstances, took his own wand out. But not after severing his own finger. The tiny, mousy finger lay on the ground, and Peter screamed a slightly incoherient word. With a flick of his wand, he'd apparated out. Sirius was literally blow away. He hit the wall, and saw no more.

-----

Hours later, he awoke beside a Healer. The Healer had no problem patching him up, but did so harshly. They thought he'd killed several innocent muggles, Peter Pettigrew, and Lily & James Potter! Sirius screamed feverently, "I DID NOT KILL THEM!"

Someone near him sneered, "we know you did! Heh. You did. You did! You were their secret keeper!"

"No, I wasn't! Peter was, he-" Sirius was quickly cut off. They didn't believe him. Not a word. He'd told Peter to keep it at the last second because he couldn't he was getting busy lately. He didn't want to let them down, so he asked Peter... and now.... "Oh my God..." he murmered.

"You'll be heading straight to Azkaban from here," a voice said. Sirius looked up wearily. It was Fudge.

"No trial?" he asked.

The man gave a cold, indignant laugh. "You fool... even Albus Dumbledore knows you're guilty, and he thinks the best of _everybody_." He paused, then added to the press more than Sirius, "don't get me wrong. He's an amazingly intellegant man."

-----

Now he was here. Nearly twelve years... he would get out. He had to get out. Soon, or else he'd grow even more mad, if possible, than he currently was.


	2. The Great Escape

Thin, dirty fingers wrapped around the cold bars of its cell, its owner looking worse than it. Skinny and frail, he gave one last, wicked look to the wet floors and took to his transformation.

In a memory; 

It was 1972, and James, Sirius, and Peter had gotten together and confronted Remus about him being a werewolf. Of couse, Remus denied his condition several times over, but finally they got to him. Finally he admitted it, after they followed him, his eyes yellowing as he neared the Whomping Willow, tears in his eyes as he begged them to GO before they were no more. Remus only ate meat during full moons, and he didn't know what he was doing during those times.

It was then that they decided to become Animagus, for Remus. To keep him company, to make it easier for the sickly-looking boy to get into the Whomping Willow. Remus looked healthy enough, sure. That is, until a few days before the full moon. They could even keep Remus from harming himself so much.

Finally, after years of hard work, the boys were in their fifth year. Even Peter, the more scatterbrained of the group was able to do it, albeit with loads of help from Sirius and James, who passed Transfiguration at the top of their form.

Peter, strangely enough, took on the shape of a rat. That made it easier to get to the Whomping Willow, as all they had to do was wait for Peter to scramble up and touch the knot of the ancient tree. It wasn't as inclined to killing a tiny rat as much as larger creatures.

James took on the shape of a stag, tall and proud as James himself ever was. He'd stare at the girl's dormitory, towards Gryffindor Tower, often hoping a certain redheaded girl would be looking down at him. On several occasions, he had his lucky night.

Sirius was a large, black dog. He looked a bit like the Grim, one of the darkest omens in the wizarding world. It was an omen of death. Occasionally, he'd go out to Hogsmeade in this form, as he never did get his permission slip signed. He wouldn't talk to his mum unless he had to, for the most obvious reasons. Once, a girl in the village tried to bring him home. He ran back to Hogwarts when there was talk about getting him neutered.

The thin man's body was overcome with fur, fleas occasionly popping off from the sudden change. Strange, really, watching the dark-haired man change into a dog. He silently sniffed the air, then slipped through the bars of the cell, lacking so much meat on his bones to do so.


End file.
